


Five Times Derek Picked Stiles Up with an Ambulance, and the One Time he didn't

by CheyanneChika



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Concussed Flirting, Concussed Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Gen, Gift Fic, Human Disaster Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Paramedic Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 20:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11631303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheyanneChika/pseuds/CheyanneChika
Summary: Five and One of flirting and getting together of Paramedic Derek Hale and Human Disaster Stiles Stilinski.





	Five Times Derek Picked Stiles Up with an Ambulance, and the One Time he didn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lonaargh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonaargh/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Lonaargh!!!!! This is the cheerful non-bullet removing AU
> 
> Also, Paramedic Stiles Stilinski is already a thing on Ao3 so I decided to change it up a bit.

1)

 

Concussions, Stiles decided, sucked.  He declared this loudly while he sat in the back of a parked ambulance.

Scott, the causer of the concussion was standing around awkwardly and wishing he could cover Stiles’ mouth long enough for the annoyed paramedic to finish checking him without killing and eating him first.  Stiles was getting that irritating.

Hitting on said grumpy paramedic was decidedly unhelpful.

“You have this angsty…hot, broody thing goin’ for you, y’know?” Stiles said while the paramedic, Hale, according to the label on his jacket.  “I wanna see if you still look all broody if you smile.  Can you smile?”

“Can you shut up?” was the grumbled reply.

“Nope!” Stiles replied, popping the P.  “If I shut up people’d…they’d think I was dead.  Ev’ry’ne knows I never shut up.”

Scott was fairly certain that Hale wouldn’t mind that so much.

After yet another lame attempt at flirting, Hale declared he needed to go to the hospital.  Scott got in back with Stiles and the other paramedic.  Hale rode in the front and away from them.

 

2)

 

Sprained ankles also sucked.  Stiles told Hale this when his ambulance pulled up to the parking lot where joggers on the Reserve could park their cars.  Scott had helped carry him nearly there before succumbing to an asthma attack and having to sit and breathe.

Hale was fairly monosyllabic, having clearly remembered Stiles from the last time.  Stiles, however, did not remember and babbled in irritation about how neither of them really needed to go to the hospital but that they couldn’t go any further and Uber wouldn’t pick them up.

Hale checked Scott’s breathing while the other paramedic, Reyes, got Stiles up and over to the ambulance.  She wrapped his ankle, announced it was, indeed, a simple sprain and ignored him in favor of Scott, who got a few breaths of purer oxygen out of a tube before he could get up and make his way to Stiles’ jeep.

“Will he be okay?” Stiles asked, carefully standing on one foot. 

“He’ll be fine,” Hale growled.  He looked Stiles up and down for a moment, then grabbed a stainless steel pair of crutches out of the back of the ambulance.  “Return those as soon as your ankle is better.”

Stiles gave him a surprised smile.  “Thanks,” he said.

Hale didn’t respond, just headed to the passenger side door.

 

3)

 

When Derek saw who they were picking up, he almost told Boyd to turn around and let someone else pick him up.

The kid, he couldn’t be any older than seventeen, was leaning against a police car with his arm over his head, held there by the Sheriff himself, who was keeping a red hoodie pressed to the arm.

“What happened now?” Derek asked.

The Sheriff looked mildly affronted.  “Excuse me?”

The teen rolled his eyes.  “I said it’s fine, we could’ve just gone to the hospital in your car.”  He looked at Derek in exasperation.  “I did tell him.”

“What did you do to your arm?” Derek reiterated.

“Blood ritual gone wrong?” the kid responded with the falsest innocent expression on.

Reyes, who’d joined them at some point, snickered. 

“He tripped while holding a knife,” the sheriff said.  And why was here, anyway?

Derek took charge of the arm and looked at the wound.  Three inches long on a diagonal line along his ulna.  “This will need stitches.  Get in.  We’ll go to the ER.”  He looked back at the sheriff.  Sir, do you want to ride along or follow?”

“Follow,” the man replied.

“Shotgun!” Reyes called, bolting for the front seat.  Derek swallowed a growl.  Now he’d have to sit in the back with the chatterbox.

As he was helping the kid into the fan, the boy jerked back.  “Dad?  Can you grab the crutches out of my room?  I was supposed to return them.  Thanks!” he spewed out before pulling himself back into the van.

_Dad?_

The moment the van pulled away from the curb, the kid grinned at him.  “So, you come here often?”

It was a long trip to the hospital.

 

4)

 

Concussion number two went like this:

“You know, you’re really hot.”

“…”

“Like stupidly hot.”

“…”

“’Cept, I know you’re not stupid ‘cause you’re like a paramedic.”

“I _am_ a paramedic.”

“And _I’m_ the idiot who got concussed twice in like a year.”

“…How did that happen?”

“Scott.  How else?”

“That makes no sense.”

“He’s always too sick to do the fun stuff.  Asthma’s real bad.  So I gotta do it for ’im, y’know?”

“…”

“Then again, if I keep getting’ concussed, then I keep getting’ to see you.”

“That’s not a reason to get concussed.  Or hurt at all, for that matter.”

“An’ I don’ even know your name.  Other than Hale, but is that like a firs’ or las’ name.  I’ve been calling you Grumpyface Hale in my ‘ead for ages.”

“Last name.”

“Wha’s your firs’ name, then?”

“Derek.”

“Dere _k_.  Derek Hale.  I’m Stiles.  It’s a weird name, but it’s mine.”

 

5)

 

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Stiles said through gritted teeth.

Derek nodded.  “What happened?”

They were outside a bar with several people milling around and police taking statements.

“Bar fight,” Stiles muttered, wincing as Derek prodded his injured shoulder. 

“Are you even old enough to be in a bar?” Derek asked.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “I’m twenty-two, dude.  I just look like I’m still in high school.”

“Still shouldn’t be fighting.”

“I wasn’t.  I was sitting.  Then Tweedle Dee punches Tweedle Dum and then they’re fighting and then one of them hits my stool and down I go, right on that metal foot rest/bar thing.” 

Derek moved around Stiles to look down the back of his shirt.  “It’s not broken.  I don’t think it’s sprained or that you pulled any muscles.  It’ll be sore and leave a big bruise though.  Let me get you an ice pack and a sling to keep your arm still.”

“You could just give me your number instead,” Stiles retorted with a pained smile.  Derek gave him a look.  Stiles didn’t know how to describe it but something about those eyebrows spelled out doom.

He came back a minute later with the sling and an ice pack that he situated so that the sling’s strap held it in the spot where the worst of the bruises would be.  “Do you have a ride home or do you want to go to the hospital?”

Stiles pointed out the Sheriff, who was speaking to another cop and occasionally looking over at them.

“Good.  I have to check on other people now.  Sit, stay, don’t move until you’re actually going to leave.  Got it?”

“Roger!” Stiles replied.

That night, when he got home, he saw ten digits written in permanent marker on the underside of the sling strap.

 

+1)

 

Derek picked him up in a gorgeous, black Camaro.  Stiles sat down in the passenger’s seat and stretched his arms, bounced his knees and shook his head back and forth.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked.

“No bum ankles, no cut up arms, no bruised shoulders and no concussions!” Stiles announced.  “Now I can say all those silly things I said while concussed and not feel incredibly embarrassed because you agreed to go out with me.”

“I’m regretting this already,” Derek grumbled.

The bright smile dropped off of Stiles’ face.  “Oh, I uh, I don’t—”

Derek jerked around at the sudden panic.  “I was joking.”

Stiles’ mouth twitched and he started to relax.  "Oh.  Ha ha.  You need to work on this humor thing, yeah?”  He laughed again and it sounded a bit hysterical.

Derek’s brows furrowed.  He leaned over and kissed the other man.  “Relax.  I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t interested.”

“Right…”  Stiles was a bit stunned by the sudden kiss.  “Where are we going?”

Derek gave him a small smile.  “Anywhere but the hospital.”

Stiles grinned.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!!


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